United in War
by Adam Nightingale
Summary: Katelyn, a citizen of Skyrim, recently engaged to Ulfric Stormcloak has just discovered the truth of her heritage - she is the dragonborn. But torn by war and her destiny in the dark brotherhood she faces a far more prominent threat: she is not the only of her kind.
1. Katelyn - A beginning

Katelyn stared at her hands. They were coated in thick, burgundy blood, but it wasn't hers. It belonged to the mighty beast in front of her, whose tongue was hanging dully out of its mouth as it took its final gasp of life. It slumped into the ground, eyes wide and still. Katelyn moved to get a closer look, hardly believing what she had done. She was slightly frightened to reach out and touch the thing, still unsure what exactly it was.

She reached out a slow and shaking hand, running it gingerly over the beast's muzzle. It was defiantly dead, that was for sure, not that any creature could have survived such a hideous amount of blood lose. She would have moved out of the way of the blood pooling around her ankles, had the morbid curiosity of the thing not taken hold of her completely.

Its skin was rough under her touch, like holly prickles, and it was freezing cold, as if she were dipping her hand in a snow bank. She shivered slightly as she rubbed her fingers along the beast's head, trailing her hands down its body. She stepped around it, leaning over to touch the lumps on its spine. She ducked under its wings, looked at the muted sunlight through their dusty, glass skin.

It was the strangest thing in the world, looking both too spectacular to be from Tamriel but too horrific to have come from Sovngarde. Then in a split second all that was gone, as the body of the creature began to glow in a blue and orange light. Katelyn sucked in her breath, scrambling to move away from the thing as she feared it could spout more fire at her. She had been terrified when the thing had fallen out of the sky and landed in front of her, trying to claw her eyes out.

The light blazed off the thing, making little trails of colour fly through the sky towards her. The further she got away, the quicker it would follow her until she was consumed by it. It devoured her head to her toes, encompassing the whole of her as she was rendered speechless. Where the glowing tentacles of light touched her she felt the oddest warmth spread over her skin and then this great feeling of power. It surrounded her, taking her in and making her feel strong. She sucked her breath in as it crushed her lungs under its power, filling them with the light. She didn't feel the need to scream or run, even though the experience was oddly painful, instead she stood still, letting it do its magic.

Then very suddenly the sensation stopped. All in one second the light had stopped completely and she felt normal. She gulped in a huge lungful of air, gasping as a hand went to support her stomach. She didn't know what that had been but by the nine divines that hadn't been normal. Whatever that beast was it must have been magic and that magic must have tainted her. She looked at her fingers which seemed normal enough, if trembling a little. There were no noticeable effects, so perhaps it was some hideous nightmare she would wake up from. Yet it all had been too vivid to be a dream.

She straightened herself, glancing over to the body of the beast and then stopping in all movements when she realised that it wasn't even there anymore. Where had stood a colossal and beautiful beast was just a pile of bones, large ones granted, but nothing more than ash on the ground. Katelyn couldn't believe it, for she still had its blood on her hands and it still soaked the ground. She shook her head lightly, deciding it was best not to dwell on it.

She moved towards the bones, noticing how, to some degree, they still kept the shape of the beast. Gingerly she snapped off what once must have been a rib, then she slid it into the satchel around her shoulders. Sighing a little, giving one last fleeting look to the beast, she moved away. Skyrim held too many creatures for her to name, this was just bound to be one of them, if a rare one. The only thing the experience had taught her was that Ulfric had been right – the forests of Eastmarch were dangerous places.

She skipped over rocks and past the stream that ran by the walls of the city, trying to remove the image of the beast from her mind. For all she knew it could be a new weapon that the Imperials were trying to use against them. She would ask Night about it that evening for she was sure to give her a straight answer. Yet for the time being she had other places to be, one such place being in the war council with Ulfric, for which she was very late.

She darted along the wall, reaching the place where the rocks were crumbling a little. She had spent a long week carefully carving hand holes in that stretch of wall and could now nimbly climb it in around half a minute. She flipped up the stone, moving quickly until she was perched on top of the wall, looking out over the city and smiling a little at the place she called home. Windhelm wasn't a place for those who enjoyed the warmth, but for her, it had been more than she'd ever been supposed to have.

She stood, slowly ambling along the wall until she reached the palace, where she climbed one further wall and dropped into the tower that sat on its most eastern edge. She was now safely in her rooms and she dropped her satchel down the side of her bed, moving towards the looking glass, where she could attempt to remove the tattered pieces of leaf and mud from her hair. She then handled the brush that sat on her bedside table, running it through her hair and quite forgetting to notice the intricate detail of Mara which had been carved into its base.

She hummed lightly as she did so, arranging her dark locks around her face in such a way that was both pleasing and vaguely presentable. Once she was pleased with what she saw, she straightened her collar and began to walk, fast but not at a running pace, towards her door. She was charging down the corridors in no time, having not a second to spare on her grumbling stomach. Men had come from all around Skyrim for this particular meeting and Ulfric wouldn't be pleased at her late arrival. Still, he could never stay angry at her.

She bounded through those big, heavy doors which led to the council chamber, watching as the faces of twenty men sharply looked up at her as she did. Every important member of the Stormcloak war effort was sat around that table, including the would-be king himself, sat at its head. He raised his eyebrows slightly as she brushed herself off and steadily stepped towards him and she gave the smallest shrug. She took her seat beside him, the events of the day quite lost on her.

He coughed, purposefully, before speaking, "As I was saying, before Katelyn decided to grace us with her presence," He and Galmar exchanged a look and I bit my tongue from telling them both to get on with the meeting, "With Whiterun safely in our control, I believe we need to take time to rebuild our forces, establishing a heavier presence in Whiterun hold, with more ground troops and the occupation of forts in the area."

It always gave Katelyn a strange cold feeling when they spoke of Whiterun. It hadn't been a month since she had presented the axe to Balgruuf and watched him turn it down, a muted look of disappointment on his face as he did. She'd watched their armies tear through the city she had once belonged to, the city that had been the true beginning of her life. She had felt such resentment for them and yet, she almost understood why it had to be done. If Balgruuf had survived, which she doubted he had, he would be long gone from that place.

"Are we not setting off for Whiterun tomorrow Ulfric? Can we not make arrangements there instead?" She asked, looking him in the eyes and giving him a sly smile. She hadn't needed to go with him, leaving behind Windhelm, but she had other reasons to go besides his charming company.

He gave her a small smirk in return, "Of course Katelyn. We shall be there for other reasons aside from the bittersweet business of appointing a new Jarl. We shall have plenty of time to cover such things I have no doubt." He sat back a little in his chair, exchanging meaningful glances with the men around the room, "And as we have already arranged, the temple in Whiterun shall need to be prepared, not only for out victory celebration but for the ceremony of marriage that will follow."

The men around the table smiled and laughed, congratulating the both of them and wishing them the best for the day. Katelyn could not pretend her stomach was not aflutter with the strangest of moths at even the mere idea of marriage, but she tried to ignore them, as she always did before such important things. Marriage was not often a thing for love in Skyrim. People died young or in battle, so marriage was out of convenience, or fondness. She was very lucky in that respect then, as well as very unusual, for her wedding would be entirely based on love and affection. She and Ulfric had chosen each other for more than a simple need to have children and support one another. He loved her and he had saved her. She would always be indebted to him.

"We do deserve a break from this damned war I suppose, and what better way to forget hatred than to celebrate the opposite. It shall be a blessed day." She said, receiving a hearty agreement from the others, "Even in Whiterun, the ice will still run through our veins." She finished, smiling a little before allowing Ulfric to wrap his arms around her. She allowed herself to completely forget the day's earlier activities, not knowing what that beast was and quite honestly not wishing to know. Katelyn was not one to care about the things she killed, that much was obvious. If something was wanted dead then its death was justified, it didn't matter what life it had had before or what it was, its death was all she cared for. That was her philosophy.

"Then it is agreed," Ulfric said in a matter-of-fact way, "With those wise words from Katelyn this meeting is over and shall be continued upon our arrival in Whiterun. For now let us retire, while we still have our heads clear of drink and our minds untouched by tiredness." There was a mumble of agreement and the shuffling and scraping of chairs. Katelyn sat for a moment as Ulfric made the last arrangements with Galmar before he was left with a mighty responsibility.

Once the conversation was over and they had exchanged a mildly manly hug, he turned back to Katelyn, tipping his head to one side slightly, "Did you enjoy your time in the forest this morning." She sat up, about to explain herself when he held out a hand, "Don't worry Kate, I'm not angry. I can hardly expect to control you when I fell in love with this chaotic version of you. I was simply asking whether you enjoyed yourself, as you have never much liked the cold of the trees." He moved a hand over her shoulder, rubbing it slightly, "It is not like your home I know and it hurts me to keep you here."

She smiled, glancing up at him, astounded by this kindness, "I have not been to Hammerfell in years Ulfric, this is my home now, with you." She smiled, taking the hand on her shoulder and holding it in hers. "This is my home and I will fight for it just as you will. Every man has the right to his own opinions and beliefs. The elves fell very far when they started putting limits of the weight of a man's heart."

Ulfric slid a smile onto his lips in return, "No wonder I love you so much Kate, you always know what to say to make everything sound perfect." He slid a hand over her hair, tucking it behind her ears before laying a slow and steady kiss on her cheek, "Talos shall rule this land once more my darling and we shall have peace."

"Bless his name," she mumbled under her breathe, never having had a steady belief in the deity herself. Gods had always been too much bother for Katelyn, she had instead focused on the more pressing matters of reality at hand.

Ulfric sighed as he lifted himself from her, moving over to tuck in his chair and straighten out his robes, "You should get some rest, we shall be travelling the morning and I would not want you to fall asleep on the road." She nodded, giving him a quick grin before he left the room, taking away quite a presence with him. He always had a way about him, whether in his manner or in his speech, that seemed to capture the people. There was simply something about his presence that made you stop and listen, no matter who you were. It had been that alone that caught Katelyn's eye all those years ago and it was one of things that bore such a fondness for him inside of her.

She shook herself out of the casual line of thought, being far too busy for such matters. Night would be waiting for her and with all the excitements of the day still to process, she did not have time to diver and focus on love. There were matters of war afoot.


	2. Katelyn - The Night Mother

She was sitting on Katelyn's bed when she entered the room, her lips pursed and her expression aglow with muted look of annoyance. Katelyn sighed a little as she closed the door behind her, unsure what the ghost-like entity that was the Night Mother could be so angry about. Her life was flowing perfectly smoothly and with this upcoming trip to Whiterun, and thereby the Whiterun wing of the dark brotherhood, there was little that could be said to be going wrong.

"Night," she greeted, unable to stop a smile slipping onto her face as she did so, knowing that her smile would only bring about the same on this particular bride of Sithis, "I wasn't expecting to see you till tomorrow," She added casually, watching as the ghostly woman's face contorted into a grimace and then the slightest grin. Whoever thought the Night Mother was a frightening being or one of great wisdom was a fool, for she was simply a woman who had done what was needed for power.

She closed her eyes, raising her eyebrows slightly. "Well, I was busy on other matters, such as people's callings to me, but when I discovered that my listener had recently defeated and absorbed the soul of a dragon, well, I thought I ought to investigate." She stood from the bed, the image of the thing clear to be seen through her translucent form. Her hair fell in curls around her face and Katelyn had often speculated on how beautiful she must have been when she was alive.

Katelyn sighed, removing her belt and throwing it over the side of chair before clipping up her hair briskly in a knot, turning to the looking glass and examining herself. "What are you talking about Nighty? You know you never make much sense to mere mortals like me," She chastised her teasingly, removing the stiff leather jacket she wore to keep warm in this damned snow. She loved Windhelm, of course she did, but she wouldn't have minded the heat and humidity of Hammerfell once in a while. Thank god she was going to Whiterun; at least that was a start.

Night stormed up behind her, pushing her down onto a stall in front of the glass so she could see both their reflections in it. The image of Night was glaring at her. "Katelyn, you are my listener, the only one who can see me, touch me, hear me and the only one I care to talk to." She looked exasperated as she moved in close to her. "You know exactly what I am talking about. Today you killed a dragon and that frightens even me."

Katelyn took a long moment to study her hollow, white face, finding herself glancing through it as often as she was glancing at it. For once she appeared to be deadly serious about the whole thing and Katelyn felt something tie itself up several times over in her stomach. "Was it really a dragon?" She asked, her voice sounding quite frail in that large and empty room. "I thought they were just legend or at least long gone."

She shrugged. "And what am I, solid fact? I'm afraid the dragons were more than real in their time and now it seems they have returned, otherwise you would not have been fighting one today." Night sighed, gesturing at nothing particular in the air. "I wasn't expecting it and I expect most things. But, I must admit, to see you absorb its soul, its very essence, that shocked me the most."

Katelyn had known that thing hadn't been an ordinary creature, of course she had, it was quite obvious, but she had washed over it, fearing what would become of it. The last thing Ulfric needed at a time like this was to be worrying about protecting his people against _dragons_ and Katelyn didn't want to be the one to bear him that news. She looked at Night blankly in the mirror glass. "Was that light its soul? I mean, I've never fought a dragon before but it seems like a strange thing to happen when you kill it."

Night raised her eyebrows slightly, shrugging as she did. "Well, it doesn't happen to everyone if I'm honest and I know too much about the dragons for my own good, so believe me. I'm not sure, exactly what it is but there are legends." She finished there and Katelyn supposed now was the time for her to pipe up and tell Night she knew exactly what she was talking about. She didn't, so after a while, she continued, "They speak of a Dovahkiin, or dragonborn in our tongue. A being who can absorb the soul of a dragon and a being which will supposedly save us all in our time of need, the only one who can truly kill a dragon, for good." She puffed out her cheeks and then laughed. "Pretentious and ridiculous I know but the basic principles of magic which guide it are true. I chose you as my listener because I saw something in you which was, well, special. I think perhaps this might have had something to do with it." She made that sly smile she always did, often before she gave Katelyn a contract to complete. It always frightened her somewhat.

"So I'm a legendary being that can absorb a dragon's soul?" She asked, amazed by how far-fetched that sounded, even when she was speaking to a hundreds-year old ghost woman who ran a guild of assassins. "Forgive me if I'm sceptical."

Night nodded. "I understand, which I rarely do, but people will come looking for you soon enough so you must be prepared for it." She grinned, tapping Katelyn on the head. "My little listener the dragonborn, I can't say I'm not proud." She raised her eyebrows again. "I'm glad Astrid didn't do away with you when she had the chance." Katelyn knew the Night Mother well enough to take that as a compliment so took to her feet and threw herself onto her bed, slumping into the furs.

"Life was complicated enough before you told me I was a legend incarnate." Katelyn sighed, turning over and watching Night stare at her stubbornly, her hands on her hips. Katelyn made a face. "Don't look at me like that, say you found out that you could absorb dragon souls, how would you feel?" She sighed, massaging her head as she felt a headache emerging. "I was all set to tell Ulfric as well, let him know that I was a member of the Dark Brotherhood, then I could ease him into the truth. I think this is information that concerns him more now." She bit her tongue, thinking about it all.

Night immediately sat down on the edge of her bed, glaring at her as if she were stupid. "Were you really prepared to tell a man like that about us? He would have desecrated my grave in a heartbeat and he would have had your head. He may love you but he's got more morals than is good for him," She looked Katelyn directly in the eyes and for once they seemed hollow, permanent and almost alive, "but the last thing you need to do is tell him about this. If he knows you can kill a dragon, I fear what he would use you to win. The dragonborn would be his greatest weapon and I don't trust him."

Katelyn picked the brush off the little table by her bed and began to run it through her hair once more as it always calmed her somewhat. "I wish you wouldn't speak of Ulfric that way for he has shown me greater kindness than anyone else, the dark brotherhood excluded," she added before Night could complain. "I would be dead if not for his kindness, so even if you object I do strive to trust him. What he stands for in this land is right, even if he goes about it in a less than honourable way."

The transparent woman rolled her eyes. "What would I expect from a woman all set to be his perfect little wife." She stopped sounding sarcastic to lean in close, an evil grin lighting up her face. "I would like to hear you say it though, just once, just to see if you really mean it."

Katelyn frowned, "Say what?"

Night laughed like a gleeful toddler. "I think you know what. You've never said it, even to him and you know it. Tell me you love him and you have my permission to tell him whatever you want about our organisation. Say it to me and mean it and you have total freedom over what I have given you. That is, if you can." She rubbed her fingers together, apparently just waiting for Katelyn to fall apart.

She sighed, deflating slightly but happy they had removed themselves from the topic of her legacy and destiny. She took a deep breath before saying simply, "Of course I love him, I am marrying him am I not? I understand that the two don't often go together but they do now, so know that Nighty and relax. There is no reason for me not to love him."

She smirked. "Wrong answer," She said, leaping up from the bed and jumping around the room, "not the type of thing a lovesick fool would say I'm afraid, besides, you didn't mean it at all. There was literally nothing about that tone which I could believe. You're such a brilliant liar Katelyn, that's what makes you so excellent at your job, but you cannot fool me." She continued to dance around the room as Katelyn ignored her, peeling off her outer clothes and slipping into something more comfortable to sleep in.

"Whatever you say Night, whatever you say." She moved around the room, making sure her best clothes were packed for the trip ahead, as well as weaponry Ulfric did not need to be aware of. "You haven't given me a contract in a long time you know, is it just that you lack interest or that you lack anything interesting to offer?" She asked, sounding more bored than she meant to.

The Night Mother halted and strayed from her cause, slowing down to a slow rocking motion. "It is neither. You will be a married woman soon and I know that means your work as an assassin will be out of your reach, at least to begin with. I am giving you a lull in contracts to make sure that you can win this war and return to me in one piece. I would rather that than have to find a whole other listener."

Katelyn smiled. "I am glad the prospect of doing work keeps me safe, god knows I need something like that in this damned war. I wish the imperials would just give us peace. Politics has always confused me more than it should." She decided everything was in order so moved back to the bed where she began to settle herself under her sheets.

Night snorted. "It's confused Ulfric more than it should as well." She ignored the dark look that earned from Katelyn and moved on, "No, I've been giving all your contracts to some of the new hopefuls at the other guild bases, or Babette, since she likes to keep herself busy nowadays," She commented dreamily, looking up at the ceiling before adding, "I better leave my sweet little dragonborn listener alone, otherwise I shall leave you tired for your long journey with your betrothed." Katelyn didn't comment on how snarky that sounded so allowed the ghost-woman to leave silently.

Dragonborn. The word brought across many emotions. Dovahkiin. The word seemed to wrap itself around your tongue and sit there, waiting to be spoken again. It all seemed to strange to Katelyn and yet it stuck with her more than she expected it to. She was part of legend now, she supposed, for better or for worse. Whatever happened from here on out, it could only get more interesting, that was for certain.


	3. Ilia - Nocturnal

Ilia was never one to be put off by a situation, however dangerous, however unreasonable. Nocturnal would not have chosen her to be one of the Nightingales if she was. So she continued to move further into Whiterun's heart, knowing full well that an Imperial supporter like her would be killed if recognised. She was not bitter or young enough to say that the Nordic support of Ulfric disgusted her, but she was not one of them, however much freedom in faith they demanded. She had learnt over her many years that freedom and peace were two things which rarely played well together.

She stalked along the streets, trying to keep to the shadows, wishing the sun to fade to twilight as quickly as possible. Each ray of light that landed on her blinded her somewhat, seeming to leak into her skin and boil her blood. She knew she should have fed sooner, knew she had left it too long and that the people she passed were giving her odd looks, but there was little she could do about it now. She was a vampire – she had little concern for what the citizens thought of her. They could fear her for all she cared, by the time they decided to do anything about it she would be long gone.

The looming image of House Battle-Born soon came into her view, overwhelming the other houses with its great and dark shadows. It had never been attractive, to Ilia at least, always too pointed and with too many gargoyle-type creations breaking from the roof to be considered pleasant. But that was the style of Whiterun and they were Nords, so she rarely questioned it. Of course it hadn't been looking as good of late, with a few broken windows and repairs still underway. In the siege of Whiterun it had suffered heavy damage, although that was to be expected, considering their political opinion in the war. Ilia knew they had been struggling to find enough help to keep the house running, now that they were the local taboo.

She glanced about her before she entered the house, forgetting to knock as she had been there so many times in the past few days. She hummed a little as she edged around the main hallway, wondering if there was a servant or such to greet her. It was still an enormous establishment, however it looked, with half a dozen servants running it. That is what came of being an ancient family in such a large city. With over a million inhabitants, Whiterun had plenty of wealth flowing about it.

"Ilia!" A voice declared behind her, obviously quite shocked at her sudden appearance. Turning, she found it to be Alfhild, Olfrid's daughter. She had fair hair, cut short so she could work on her family's farm, even though her parents thought it unsuitable for a woman of her position. Like her father she had fierce features and those features were working together to bring about an expression which was less than pleased to see the wood elf, "What are you doing here?" She demanded, tensing her body slightly. Ilia could feel her blood pulsing faster as her heart rate increased, a not-so-pleasant side effect of the vampirism.

Ilia moved into a more official position, knowing her clothes didn't suit the military stance but also knowing dressing any differently would have got her noticed, "I'm here to see your father," she informed her quite seriously, "making my final report before I leave for Solitude." Alfhild almost didn't seem to believe it, no doubt it appearing too mundane for a woman who always looked like she was up to something, but realising it was Ilia she didn't question it.

She paused for a moment before pointing up the stairs, "He's in his study, but I warn you, he's in a foul temper. Jon had another run in with some of those Grey-Mane supporters, probably sent by Avulstein." She spat on the ground, "Our families need to learn that feuding will get us nowhere. It is stupid and pointless and people like you are only furthering that." She glared darkly at Ilia before marching off elsewhere into the house, muttering about the stupidity of the entire war. Ilia smirked, always amused by Alfhild's antics.

She continued up the stairs, accustomed now to the emptiness of the house. It was no wonder that the children of such a place were always keen to get away and escape – it had a strange and cold atmosphere. She tripped up the stairs and entered the room she knew to be Olfrid's study slowly, not wanting to show disrespect.

Olfrid Battle-Born was sitting behind his desk, his head in his hands, searching aimlessly over letters on his desk, each so tattered it must have been read a thousand times. He had been like this for a while now, knowing Ulfric's appearance in the city would most likely result in his own death, or at least imprisonment. That was, in truth, why Ilia had been sent there. She was present simply to organise their escape.

He looked up when she entered, his eyes frantic, "Ilia?" He asked, his vision having been leaving him for many years, even though he had tried many different magical cures to stop it. She nodded, drawing closer, almost feeling a sense of pity for the man who had once been such a great and powerful warrior. _'Battle-Born is a name out of legend'_ he had once declared to her, cheering with the entire tavern as he did, _'sung in the songs of old and heard in deeds of valour for a hundred generations!'_ There was little of that brisk and bold Nordic strength she had once seen in him now. He was old, tattered and frightened for his family. As much as the Stormcloaks pretended they fought for freedom, this was the true extent of what they were bringing their citizens.

"It is all prepared." She told him plainly, watching as the words relaxed his old and wrinkled face, "Tonight there shall be a carriage awaiting you and your family, ready to take you to Solitude along roads that Stormcloak soldiers don't travel. You should arrive there in a matter of days and when you do, you will be safe." Ilia didn't really care, if she were being honest, what happened to these people, as loyalists to the cause had never swayed her any way in particular. She was a supporter of the Imperial Legion simply because she was too bored out of her mind not to be involved in the war. Although, at times she was dead-set on winning the fight, as her moods often took to her when they did, changing whenever she felt they needed to.

She had to admit, of course, that however hard she pretended to be, the Battle-Born clan had grown on her, especially Lars, as she always had a soft spot for children.

She stood once she had finished, not wanting to weaken the man any more before his escape, "I wish you well Olfrid, for the good of Skyrim I wish you safety." He nodded to her before quickly looking back down at the paper littering his desk.

Ilia began to make her way to the door, but just as she reached the handle, he called out, "Thank you. I know what you are, I know what you do and I know you don't need to be helping us, but thank you for doing it anyway." That surprised Ilia and she frowned slightly, yet continued on her way out, not really knowing how to reply.

She trotted down the stairs and left the house, happily finding no one else to run into on her way out. She busily made her way back down those Whiterun streets, keen to pick up her belongings from the Bannered Mare and get on her way as soon as possible, not wanting to miss a moment of her time to herself. Too long she had spent surrounded by these people and she longed for the days when she had spent years, alone and in the wilderness. She found people interesting, that much was true, but she also found them very stupid and very hard to understand at times. Perhaps that was why thievery often suited her better than common interaction and manipulation.

"So this is where you have been wasting your time." When Ilia had arrived at her room she was hardly surprised to see Nocturnal awaiting her, standing stock still, staring at her and yet still holding herself with an air and a grace unbefitting to any human, "When you took over my guild and my Nightingales two hundred years ago I expected you to remain faithful to the cause, no matter what else distracted you." She nearly hissed the words and Ilia had quite forgotten how painfully annoyed the Daedric Prince became at the slightest inconvenience.

Ilia returned her gaze with the same jilted look of anger, "I got bored and I didn't want to spend my life as a god's lapdog. I have the whole of eternity to spend doing as I wish and that does not include doing your biddings." Nocturnal threw her arms in the air, making a strange hissing noise and showing fangs amongst those beautiful teeth of hers. Ilia knew to tell her everything just how she meant it, well aware of the irritation born in this creature the moment you become unclear.

"You made an oath." She said, the words splitting into Ilia like a knife. She had made many oaths in her life, many oaths including her fate and her powers. Those oaths, however, were not necessarily ones that needed to be kept.

"I hardly think the honour and duty of an oath are things often prized highly by creatures like you. I know you hold strong to your values but you are still a Daedric Prince and you are still a thief." Although that wasn't strictly true it felt the right thing to say and Ilia was most concerned with what was the right thing to say.

Nocturnal stepped forward, seeming to grow ten times her size while staying exactly the same, black smoke pillowing out of her while the air remained clear. There was so much about this creature that even Ilia had yet to fully understand, "I could kill you where you stand. I could destroy you and watch you suffer through the afterlife, do not play games with me and do not defy me, mortal."

Ilia felt a smile gracing her lips as the woman spoke, "And do not lie to me Nocturnal. You know as well as I do that you cannot kill me, not only because of our contract but also because of my previous oaths. Do not forget that even dark gods can die," Ilia reminded her, spitting her words, feigning disgust when in truth she had little time for Daedric worship in general. She had learnt a long time ago not to fear these monsters, since many of them were searching for amusement above all else. Nocturnal, as it would happen, was one of the exceptions to the rule.

Nocturnal instantly relaxed after she had spoken, shaking her head but still looking somehow happy, "No, I suppose I cannot and if you weren't tied down by a greater force than even I dare to question, perhaps I would consider disposing of you, but I cannot." It was quite fantastic the way she could float around the room, appearing to be a ghostly pale form while still being dark and beautiful. Ilia had often wondered whether the other Daedric Princes presented themselves like this to their chosen followers.

Suddenly Nocturnal had disappeared and then suddenly she was right next to Ilia, right by her side. It was not as if she had gone and reappeared, more that the wood elf had simply failed to notice she was there before, as if it were all a trick of the mind. The ghostly presence then drew her hands forward, lacing something dark over Ilia's eyes. She began to protest when Nocturnal shushed her.

The material was thick and blue, verging on black. It was placed on Ilia's head like a hood, covering her eyes while still leaving her mouth free. Nocturnal guided her over to see her reflection in the mirror before she spoke. "My cowl," she explained as Ilia had the strangest sensation of not being able to recognise her own reflection, "It once belonged to the notorious Grey Fox, or at least the many people who claimed to be him. I have remodelled it to suit you and the fashions here in Skyrim, but it still holds the same magic I assure you. I can hide your identity from everyone else and also acts as a way in which I can find you with ease." Ilia wasn't sure whether to thank her for this or work out if it was some nasty trick.

Nocturnal stepped back from her, "I would, if I were you, wait a few days longer in the city. A woman will be arriving soon and that debt you have kept all these years might finally be repaid with this one."

Ilia turned from admiring her reflection, "I highly doubt it," she replied, "I've had too many disappointments along the years to believe this woman any different, but I will wait none the less." She felt herself bowing to Nocturnal quite without thinking, finding it customary to do so as the conversation was ending.

"Shadow hide you my child." Nocturnal murmured before Ilia seemed to notice she wasn't there anymore and the whole thing began to fade like a dream.


	4. Katelyn - Leon the serving boy

"Katelyn," she told the man perched next to her, a jug in his hands and an expression as bemused as a puppy wore every day it lived. She couldn't help but find herself relaxing around this man even though it was hard to relax in such an uncomfortable building.

He crumpled up his features into a frown, snorting as he did, "Not a very common name, is it? I mean, I hardly know a lot about Redguard customs but surely, even for your people, that's a bit unusual." He poured some of the strong wine into his own glass and almost gulped the whole thing down. Whiterun wine was the richest in the whole of Skyrim, mainly because it didn't come from Skyrim. Whiterun, being the centre of trade it was, hardly ever bore resources which weren't rich, foreign and unbelievably expensive.

"You're a bit aloof and full of yourself to be a serving boy, aren't you?" Katelyn commented back, grinning when he pretended to squirm at the word 'boy' since he was quite obviously two or three years her senior. She tried to hold herself with a little more dignity but found it rarely came to people like her, "Besides, I wasn't born to the name Katelyn, I chose it for myself."

The man huffed, "Aloof," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he did. Then all at once he was brought back to life and was smiling again. Katelyn wondered if the wine had taken to him a little too much, "Well, if your name isn't Katelyn then what is it?"

She bristled uncomfortably, disliking what she had been called before. Ulfric knew of her real name, of course, along with Galmar and a few others, but it still didn't sit well with her. She looked at the man a while before answering, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." He nodded, agreeing to the terms, allowing Katelyn a chance to draw in breath. She whispered the word, trying to sound like she was sharing a secret but ending up soundly simply ridiculous, "Elone."

He considered it for a few moments before nodding, "I heartily approve. Well, Elone it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Leonde, but you can call me Leon." She smirked, liking the name but not wishing to boost his ego by telling him. She could hardly believe that she was sitting on a bench, sharing wine and sharing names with a serving boy such as Leon. She had always hated the privileged life, so had naturally invited the man who came to serve her in her quarters to drink with her. The fact that he had done so without a moment's hesitation was quite a pleasant surprise.

"So," Katelyn began, toying with her words, "How did an Imperial like you end up working in Dragonsreach?" She asked as he poured her more wine. The journey to Whiterun had been mostly uneventful in truth, with Ulfric far too busy to talk to her. So to have someone to talk to now she was cooped up in Dragonsreach was fun.

Leon shrugged, "Oh, you know, the usual sort of things. I was wanted for thievery and high treason, things like that." He giggled like a woman and Katelyn almost believed him before he shook his head, "No, I wish my life was that interesting but I'm afraid it wasn't. I had a poor family, I wanted to go off on my own and so I did. I was born in Bruma, lived there my whole childhood, moved up to Riften when I was fifteen and then to Whiterun when I was seventeen. A friend of mine was working in Dragonsreach at the time and petitioned to get me a job here. I suppose I've never looked back after that."

Katelyn didn't know at what point the conversation had turned to meaningful comments on their life, but somehow it had and that was hardly a bad thing. He eyed her up carefully, "And what's your story. Somehow I don't think you simply wondered into the Palace of the Kings and took Ulfric's hand by force, although that isn't far from some of the rumours that have been flying around." He smiled quite kindly, "Care to tell a serving boy like me?"

Being the Night Mother's listener meant that Katelyn was adept at keeping things to herself but somehow she didn't see any harm in telling Leon. Besides, who would think that the soon to be Katelyn Stormcloak could have spilled her life to a servant? She raised her eyebrows, "To be honest, it's a long and dull story, hardly as interesting as you might think." He didn't protest to that and instead sat, cross-legged and obediently quiet. It made Katelyn smirk but also gave her the courage to continue, "I was an orphan in Hammerfell for a little bit, after my parents died when I was about fourteen. Then I moved up to Skyrim, Whiterun at first. I wasn't very rich I must admit and didn't really receive my wealth through reputable means." By that, of course, she meant the Dark Brotherhood, but she left that little detail out for Leon's sake. "So I was about sixteen, begging on the streets, when Ulfric took pity on me, asking if I wanted to be taken back to Windhelm with him, to work in his palace. For some ridiculous reason I agreed and then I was a serving girl." That ridiculous reason, of course, had been so she could murder a member of Ulfric's household, but for all he knew that was a terrible accident. "Then one day, although I shouldn't have been, I was practising some sword fighting in his courtyard," that much was true, "and he saw me and he told me I had talent. He then made me a member of the Stormcloak rebellion, which had only just started at this point and things just happened from there and we fell in love."

Leon stuck his tongue out like a child, "I don't believe a word of it. You don't seem the type to fall in love quite so easily and you don't seem like the type who would take up a serving job just because it was offered to you. That's not true." He looked pretty smug and Katelyn found herself pouting, growing as annoyed as she had with her brothers when she was a child.

"And you, a serving boy, who has known me for about an hour, you would know, wouldn't you?" She settled down, deciding that she couldn't be angry as she was more relaxed than she usually felt, which again felt, well, nice. After all the dragon scares and the dark brotherhood scares and the war scares, this was nice. It wasn't anything else, it was just nice.

He placed the jug down beside him before lifting up his hands in defeat, "I shall take that blow with honour because it is true. Still, judging by my first impression of you, that doesn't seem accurate. By the Nine Divines you're a Redguard, isn't that a little too emotional for you? Aren't you more of a violence and battle sort of people, from what I gather at least?"

Katelyn stared at him, "And aren't Imperials meant to be well-mannered, educated and civilized? You can't judge a person by their race or culture, it doesn't work like that. That's why there are Nord Imperial supports and that's why there are Elven Stormcloaks – you can't determine one's self based on who they were born to be."

Leon leant back, "So we're getting all philosophical now are we? Well, for the highly irregular, uneducated Imperial like me, this conversation has just become twice as confusing. Besides, I thought you were marrying Ulfric Stormcloak. Don't tell me that he won't judge a person based on their race, even I can see through that lie." Katelyn was about to point out that they had just moved from philosophy to politics when she realised how right he was and shut up.

"I'm not marrying him for his racial opinions." She said, trying to win back her case, although it sounded quite weak compared to everything else, "To be honest it's surprising that he's marrying a Redguard at all, since he's all for the purity of the Nordic people and what not. No, I'm not staying with him for things like that, more his kindness, which he does show, even when people can't quite see it." She wasn't quite sure why she was defending him so much, knowing he could be an utter – No, she wasn't even going to go there.

"Well, don't talk to a young liberal like me about such things. I'm too happy to argue even when it's with a woman who could probably slice me open in half a second if she wanted." Katelyn nodded at the compliment although let him continue, "I just don't much like the way the Stormcloaks run things. I fully support the idea that you should be allowed to worship whoever you want, god or man, but destroying a land to do that and letting thousands of good men die? That doesn't seem like a brilliant way of going about it to me."

Katelyn felt herself look down, "Sometimes death, however painful, is necessary."

"And sometimes it is pointless." He pointed out and she couldn't quite argue with him there. For an assassin, or at least a part of a group of highly trained assassins, Katelyn had a strange take on death and killing. Nords all seemed very brisk, very willing to let death wash over them and yet she saw it affecting them as well. Ask any soldier how they would feel, dying for their cause, and they would probably turn around and say they would do it with honour. Their mother's still cried when they fell, of course. There was still that heart wrenching wail that came when they first found out that their flesh and blood was gone. During times of peace, sons bury their fathers, but in war it is fathers who send their sons to their graves. It was the sad and bitter truth.

"I apologise," he said suddenly, catching Katelyn out as she closed her train of thought, "I don't mean to be getting the woman, who will someday be my queen, down." He smiled and picked up his jug once more, offering her more wine.

She took it gladly, "No, don't feel sorry, this is really quite liberating. I cannot talk about such things with Ulfric, only our victory and the glory of our cause. Sometimes I wonder if the cold has hardened him to the truth for we are not victorious yet. The clouds of war are still gathering and the storm has only yet to begin." She shook her head, gulping down the wine, "I don't mean to be saying such mindless things but my head is foggy tonight."

Leon chuckled, "That's the wine for you. I think you need a bit of ale, it will clear your head a bit. I can't promise that the flowery, fruity stuff they serve here will be anything like what people drink up north though. I'm fairly sure one whiff of your usual stuff would kill half the milk-drinkers in this city, but I could look." He made to move but Katelyn grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back down.

"Don't bother, I think it was probably the journey that got to me and I'll sleep soon enough." She rubbed her eyes numbly, looking around the room. She wasn't often accustomed to quarters like this, too used to Windhelm with its thick furs and stone walls. This place was almost warm and the decor was lavish. Still, all Katelyn could think about, when she saw the wooden walls, was how easily they could burn.

"I saw you that day," Leon murmured after a long moment's silence. Katelyn looked to him, somehow already knowing what he was about to speak of, "When you presented that axe to Balgruuf and he turned you away. I think some of the people here will hate you for what you did, because he was a good man, but I saw your face on that day. You didn't want to do it and as you said, sometimes things are necessary." He looked meekly into his jug, "I just thought you should know that."

She sat there, quite in shock as he spoke, hating to hear of that day and yet feeling a weight lift off her when she did. Most either congratulated her for that event or despised her for it, so Leon was the first to realise she had done it out of duty and not want.

"Thank you," she told him, hoping he could see the sincerity on her face. She paused before asking what she couldn't bear to keep inside her any longer, "Do you know if he made it? Do you know if he lives?"

Leon didn't answer her for a moment and Katelyn couldn't read what was passing over his face. Then, just like that, he nodded, "Yes, he made it and so did his children, although they weren't quite lucky enough in where they ended up hiding." He jumped up so he was standing, "Now, let me get you that ale."


	5. Katelyn - The Sanctuary

**AN: I think this is how you add an author's note so feel free to correct me if i'm wrong. Just a heads up. I have no idea where this story is heading and I am literally just winging it. I am slowly developing plot as I go along, so if this seems a little random, it's because it is. I know this chapter's short and covers a lot of drama very quickly but, um, enjoy I suppose. Sorry for spelling mistakes and such, I am editing but I don't always catch everything. **

"It is highly irregular," commented Danica, priestess to the temple of Kynareth in Whiterun, "especially for a couple of your position, but we do have a priestess of Mara present for such occasions, so if you wish it, it is possible." Danica had such a way about speaking that she made everything seem holy or peaceful. It was hard to believe she could exist in a place which had, not long ago, been the center of the war and a great siege. Yet she was and she seemed content with it. Even her movements seemed to flow from her, making it all appear as an elaborate dance rather than a simple walk. She was not fair, it had to be said, with aging features and hair invisible under her thick hood, but that simply added to the illusion of it all. There was a beauty around her which was unspoken and not simply pretty but so much more than that.

Ulfric bowed to her, showing the proper respect which was demanded when facing a woman of her position, "That is most kind Danica, but if I could request it, I would wish for you to perform the ceremony." Katelyn was well aware why he could be requesting this, although she was more than happy to be married in a barn with a pig farmer performing the ceremony. But she and Ulfric had hardly had the same upbringing.

Danica stared at him, her mouth agape for a few moments before she closed it and straightened herself out, her dark eyes boring into him, "I am a healer, Ulfric and I am not a follower of Mara. It isn't proper for me to do such a thing." She glanced over at Katelyn for a moment to determine her opinion on the matter. Katelyn didn't particularly have one so Danica found no escape from Ulfric's way with her.

"But I am breaking down the boundaries of such things Danica. The Imperials have said that no man can become a god and we have shown them wrong. You say that no healer can perform a wedding and I will prove you wrong. You are the priestess at this temple and this temple is in Whiterun, the start of my journey with Katelyn. This is where we shall begin the start of our end together." That sounded rather daunting and instantly put Katelyn on edge while Danica reluctantly agreed.

There was little to arrange after that, besides a date for the deed to be done. They toured a little around the temple and Katelyn strayed from the group, wondering into the sanctuary where the sick were healed. She'd never been in one before so did not truly know what to find there.

Whatever she had thought, she had not quite expected the sight that met her eyes, thinking the siege to be long behind these people and in the past. It was most certainly not.

The room had the strangest smell, something that made you gag as soon as you entered it, wanting to vomit and run from that place. For a woman more than accustomed to death, it was a strange sensation. She had never set foot in the temple before, terrified, she had to admit, that her past actions may have upset the gods. She wasn't one for superstition but there was an undeniable fear born for sinners in that place. Yet she never dreamed of this.

There was more, besides the smell. There was a screaming, a crying and a shouting of men, who Katelyn knew had once been strong yet had somehow fallen to this. And the noise seemed to taint her and dig into her and destroy her, almost. She wanted to scream herself, just to block it out, and yet she couldn't, because it needed to be heard.

Then, when she had registered the taste of blood in the air and the feel of the cold dripping off her skin, she finally looked around and what she saw would haunt her. In that moment alone she decided that Leon had been right and that things such as war, however necessary were often very, very pointless.

There must have been at least two hundred, no, three hundred men, women and children, lying in filth and blood, crying out. It was hard to tell who was living and who was dead but it was most certainly a place riddled with disease and pain. This was a healing sanctuary, one designed to heal the left overs of war.

One man, on the bed that was closest to the door she entered by, reached out his hand, his fingers trembling and they stretched out to her, trying to twist through the air although they were thin to the bone. He made a whimpering noise and Katelyn instinctively reached out and grabbed that hand in hers, realising he was too weak to sweat or feel warmth in his palm. His face was ragged but not old, perhaps in his mid-twenties at the most. She imagined he would once have been fair, an elf with stripped white hair. Yet he was hollow, not just in his cheeks but in his very manner and in his eyes. This was disease, an infected wound no doubt and it looked like it was soon to claiming him. However they tried, even magic could not stop the creeping hand of death.

The man began to whisper something, something low and something pure. Katelyn found herself on her knees, leaning in, attempting to hear what he was saying. His lips parted ever so slightly and they were dry as a bone. Whatever this disease was it had used all his strength and he couldn't even salivate. Still he attempted to speak to her, his white skin pleated and void of colour. All the features that hinted as to what species of elf he was were gone now and he could have been anybody.

The lily white of his trembling lips seemed to wash over his skin and he gasped for air, spluttering and nearly vomiting before he relaxed and closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. When they opened they were suddenly alive again and blazing at her. His mouth twitched very slowly into a smile and he looked as happy as a child. His cheeks almost seemed to flush for a moment. He gave her a knowing look, "Tarene?" He asked her. She knew that to be a male name and one used among elves but she found herself nodding for some reason, pretending she was this person he needed.

"You look beautiful." He whispered and she realised that he wasn't speaking to her but rather speaking to something behind her. She turned but saw no one gazing back and then she knew that he was seeing something beyond that room. She looked back at him, "You still have mother's eyes don't you?" He told whoever needed to hear him and Katelyn didn't think or move, she simply listened. "I did it, for you, I honoured you like they wanted. I hope I sufficed." There was a moment of stillness and he quite quickly slumped, still breathing slightly, having apparently received his answer. "That's nice," he told them, "I'm glad." Then his voice, frail as a whisper and yet with a musical and majestic quality unbefitting to a human cut off.

His lips spread into one last smile and then his chest stuttered and he gasped and he was gone.

Katelyn gingerly plucked his fingers from her own. Most didn't die looking quite so peaceful and most didn't die with their mouth shut in such a smile. She reached forward, stroking the man's forehead and finding herself growing strangely sad. She couldn't quite understand it, for death was no stranger to her life. So she moved on, lest she face it.

She searched for a priestess or some other type of medic, keen to inform them that another one of their patients had been lost. But through the dirtied and bloodied floors, the screaming men and the poignant smell of death, she saw few people who looked as if they were in charge. When she did find a healer, it was a man and he was frantic, with a wild look in his eyes, desperately trying to hold a woman down who was screaming and thrashing out at him. As Katelyn approached she saw him grasp the woman's forehead and then, in a flash of bright light, she fell back into the bed, alive but no longer conscious.

The man heaved a long sigh, collapsing into himself and stumbling backwards, no longer needing to hold himself against another force. Katelyn started forward as soon as he did, demanding, "What is this place? Are these soldiers, because there needs to be more medical staff and cleaner places to keep them. Have you seen how many men are sharing beds? Some of them are already dead and the living are sleeping among corpses." Katelyn had to admit, she had never seen a healing wing after a battle, but it had been over a month and this was too much.

He looked at her, his face splattered with blood and his clothes covered in other substances she didn't wish to think about. His expression immediately turned hostile, "Welcome, my name is Louis and unless you're desperate to visit Sovngarde I would get out of my hospital, right now." He spat on the floor beside her before hearing a cry in the distant and immediately moving to answer it. Katelyn followed.

A young man, perhaps fifteen but maybe younger, was vomiting an enormous amount of perhaps blood, perhaps something else. Louis quickly fetched a bucket and allowed him to do so, rubbing his back and whispering words as a soft glow resonated from his palms. Katelyn stood over him, "My name is Katelyn, Ulfric Stormcloak's betrothed and I want to know why there are people dying in the middle of Whiterun."

Suddenly he was on his feet and Katelyn noted absentmindedly that he was a little too tall and well-built to be a healer, "If you want to know you should ask your husband." He hissed, wiping his hands down his clothes and shaking his fair hair around his face, each ringlet bouncing off the other. Katelyn was about to tell him that she didn't understand when he laughed, speaking before she could, "The great and bountiful king of the Stormcloaks ordered every imperial fighter out of the other temples and places of healing. He has forced them to reside here, where there is not enough room and disease is rife. He did it because he does not care if they live or die. The temple won't even pay someone to care for them."

Katelyn took a step back, the words hitting her but almost going through her. She shook her head, "Ulfric wouldn't do that, he cares for his people."

Louis shrugged, "He cares for the Nords and his supporters, not this lot, not the ones who tried to kill and remove his throne." He looked as if he wanted to spit again but didn't, "I think it's a bloody miracle that he didn't order their execution straight away, but I guess it's easier this way. Let them die by natural causes and then he can't be seen as the villain."

Katelyn stared at him and then she turned her gaze to the others in that room. Her eyes met the still image of that elf, the one she had seen take his last breath. She realised that it was probably Ulfric who took his life, or at least made sure that it couldn't be saved. She didn't understand how he could do it, it seemed so ridiculous and so cruel. She knew he could be selfish at times, knew he could be hateful but did not know he would stoop to this.

"He won't let them leave this place, even if by some miracle they recover. He's going to make us keep them here until they're all gone." He put his head in his hands for a brief moment and Katelyn realised she was sweating, the room having a thick, heavy and hot air to it, making her feel faint as she forced herself to wade through it. "Ulfric Stormcloak is responsible for every death you see here and don't care if he kills me for saying it because this is wrong." Katelyn knew he probably would and so she stayed quiet.

"Katelyn?" A voice called out from the doorway and she moved slightly, swaying as she did, to see Ulfric standing there, surrounded by his entourage of supporters. "Katelyn!" He shouted again before he caught sight of her, shaking his head when he did, "Katelyn you shouldn't be here."

She looked up at him, shaking her head and leaning away, "Why, because this place is your doing? Because you don't want me to see the price of Nordic purity? These are people Ulfric and you, you are treating them like animals." She gritted her teeth together and he straightened himself, losing that softness he had when talking to her.

"These are Imperial supports, followers of the Thalmor who would see us all dead. The fact that I am allowing them to live at all is a mercy." He spoke the word as if it hurt him to do so, as if this mercy went against everything he wanted for these people.

So this was Ulfric. Katelyn knew him, she knew him too well, but even this seemed too far gone for him. He was packing up his enemies like cattle, watching them drop dead from disease and refusing them the care every person deserved. No doubt the other areas of healing were clean and practically empty. Stormcloaks got preference over such things, of course.

"This is disgusting." She told him, the face of the man she had watched die imprinted on her mind.

"This is war, Katelyn and this is my generosity as High King." He didn't like her talking like this, talking like she had a mind of her own. It was worrying him.

"You're not king yet." She reminded him forcefully, making his expression darken somewhat. "This is brutality Ulfric and this is blind murder for the sakes of revenge and power. Every death here is utterly," she paused, tasting the word and deciding it was true, "pointless." She shook her head, marching out and hoping that there was some sort of back entrance, otherwise she would be trapped among the dying. He called out after her and she ignored him.

If this was the price of war, it wasn't worth paying.


	6. Leon - The Plains

**A/N: OK, so, this chapter is my vague attempt at beginning plot (plot which is moving on from the first five chapters). I am writing Leon because I love him too much, so enjoy.**

Leon had taken to Katelyn quite a lot. When he first heard that Ulfric and his mob would be staying in Dragonsreach he had quite literally gagged on his own disgust, but she was nice. Well, not nice exactly. If Leon didn't fill her up with wine every time they spoke, she probably would have cut him in two or at least caused him serious or fatal injury. But she wasn't the bigoted fool that the rest of them were. She didn't even appear to show that much affection towards Ulfric, although the others were blind to that. Leon had genuinely begun to like Katelyn, which was why it worried him when she didn't return that night.

The whole Stormcloak party seemed agitated and Ulfric was practically throwing a tantrum. Leon didn't comment on that of course, knowing how violent the Stormcloaks could get when their honour was at stake. But the whole castle seemed to be stuck in a strange state of emptiness and although search parties were sent out in an attempt to locate the missing noblewoman, they couldn't find her.

It was around a day and a half after Katelyn disappeared that Leon was sitting in the kitchen, absentmindedly eating a sweetroll and sharing conversation with Fianna, another one of the servants who had been there since the reign and fall of Balgruuf. She was clearing away the food and dusting the floor in preparation for the evening meal that would soon busy the cooks.

"Why did she leave?" Leon asked her, as she always seemed to know everything. She frowned when he spoke, hinting that she had no idea what he was referring to. Leon sighed, continuing, "Katelyn, why did she run away? I heard something happened but I'm hardly attuned to such things." He clicked his tongue before taking another bite, the taste stinging his mouth a little. Balgruuf's daughter had been right: you couldn't get good sweetrolls in the city.

"She found out that Ulfric was refusing healing to the Imperial fighters. They say she threw a fit and ran out, don't know where she went though." She shook her head, continuing to brush dirt around the floor without concentrating on where it wound up, "I can hardly believe that people are fussing over her in all of this. They highlight the fact that soldiers are dying in the centre of our city and yet Ulfric's little woman is the only thing that catches people's attention."

Leon didn't bother telling her that he knew that wasn't Katelyn intention, well aware of how any of it would look. He sat up, "I'm surprised she didn't know about Ulfric's new laws, I thought everyone knew. I heard he just banned Imperial supporters from leaving their houses." He finished his sweetroll and ruffled his dark hair a little, "The Battle-Borns were lucky to escape when they did." When Stormcloaks had visited their house, they'd found it empty and with no trace of where the family had fled to. Rumours were that they had help from the Imperial Legion.

"I never imagined him to be one who would tell his wife anything, or indeed have a Redguard as a wife." She put down her broom, too interested in the conversation to continue, "I don't know where she could have gone though. If she really was just an ordinary street urchin as a child, I imagine she might have run to the Plains District, what with it being so big and all. It would be hard to find one woman in half a million houses."

Leon paused for a moment and Fianna noticed, she frowned slightly but didn't speak. "Do you really think that's where she'll be?" He asked and she stared at him for several moments.

"Don't tell me you're planning on finding her. It's ridiculous idea, firstly because it's impossible and secondly because she's betrothed to Ulfric Stormcloak." Fianna, who was several years Leon's senior, put her hands on her hips like a complacent mother and Leon pretended to have no idea what she was talking about. "And suppose you do find her, what will you do then? You need to prioritise Leon."

He was about to argue his case when Frothar came running into the kitchen, out of breath and panting. He leant over onto his knees to catch his breath. A large smile spread slowly across Fiaana's face as she saw him, always loving Balgruuf's children as if she were their own mother, "What's wrong Forthar, playing tag with your brother again?" She asked, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur as she addressed him.

Balgruuf's children had either been extremely lucky or extremely unlucky. When their father fled they did not and they now lived in the lowest reaches on the palace, among the servants. None of the higher up nobles realised they were there and the servants, impartial in the war or having taken to the children so much they daren't report them, let them run around and live with the other serving children. They didn't seem to mind the end of their luxury and were almost too mature for their own good, happy to be alive rather than to be living comfortably.

Forthar nodded, grinning as he did, "Dagny didn't want to play but Nelkir did," once he was able to breathe again he ran to the door which lead to the maze of corridors built under Dragonsreach, inhabited by servants, "don't tell him where I am." He snickered before running off.

Fianna stood, "I don't know if he even remembers much of his father now. I think it's too hard for him to remember what it was like before and I'm almost glad, because it would be too hard for them if they did." Leon stared at her as she took her seat once more, noting how her pale hair fell in ringlets around her face, which was soft but too aged for her years.

"If you need to I suppose you should try and find this Katelyn, although I doubt it will work." He smiled quite generally at her, overwhelmed with delight at her approval. With this he knew he could go on his way. He waited till the evening, knowing that what he was doing might mean he never went back to Dragonsreach again. It didn't matter to him – he would have been arrested sooner or later, what with his ridiculous views and all. Besides, this felt like an adventure and for everything he'd been through, Leon wanted an adventure.

So that evening, when twilight was setting in and the stars were glinting through the clouds, he found himself tiptoeing through the slums of Whiterun. Whiterun was often called the city of wealth but that only existed in the Cloud and Wind district. Everywhere else was stricken poor as the rich did not require their services, taking trade from elsewhere. Of course, that led to crime, not as much as Riften, the city of thieves, but enough to give the Plains district a bad name. With houses packed tightly and piled on top of each other, disease was everywhere as was thievery and murder. But Leon hardly felt out of place. There were darker things in his past that put him right at home there.

"Young pup, what you doing in a place like this. Pretty face like yours will get damaged here." The Orc woman behind the bar slurred, rubbing down the wood in front of her, although no amount of water could have removed some of those stains.

Leon smirked, leaning down in front of her and putting on an air which he hoped would help him, although he knew it seemed almost comical with his height being what it was, "I can take care of myself," he told her before she promptly spat into the tankard she began to clean. No matter how he looked at them, Leon just couldn't find Orc women attractive, and this was not helping.

"Sure you can sweetheart, I believe it." She laughed although she seemed to snort when she did, making Leon wonder if she was choking on something. When she stopped it came as quiet a relief, "What you want then hun, 'cause if you're looking for conversation this isn't the right place." That was really the last thing Leon was looking for, so he put on his serious face before he spoke.

"I'm looking for a redguard woman. I doubt she'll be using her own name, but she's around eighteen, nineteen, slim, average height, shoulder length hair and incredibly pale eyes. She should have only just arrived in the area, I'm wondering if you've heard of her." This was a start he supposed, but only having met her a few times he couldn't describe her in great detail. It made the whole situation seem much more idiotic than it felt to him.

The Orc woman stared at him, her mouth agape, each second that passed making Leon feel like much, much more of a fool, "You came to the Plain's District, which holds half a million people, and are looking for a nameless redguard woman, who you have described to look like every other redguard woman. Do you have any idea how fucking-"

Leon held up a hand, "I'm going to stop you there." He said and she seemed to grow that terrifying expression all Orcs grew whenever they were annoyed. "I sense that there isn't a redguard woman who recently showed up here, so I'm going to leave." He flicked a Septim in her direction, "Thank you for your time." He murmured before hurriedly making his way from that place.

He went to another seventeen taverns that night and met ten women, all redguards, all recently arrived in the city. None of them were Katelyn although they all vaguely resembled her. It was nearing dawn and Leon was utterly exhausted by the time he reached his eighteenth, which in truth seemed to be more of a cat house than a tavern, run by a slimy looking Khajiit who seemed more than happy to eye up his purse and offer him some skooma.

When he asked after a redguard woman the man instantly assumed he meant one of his workers and it took Leon a great deal of time to explain that he meant one of the residents in the place rather than one of the staff. Although that seemed to displease the cat, he did say that they had one woman staying, who had arrived the day before. Her name was apparently Saadia, or at least that was the noise the Khajiit made when he took him to her room. He left Leon standing before the door, too tired to be nervous about meeting another one. He entered the room begrudgingly, without knocking.

There was a redguard woman waiting in the room, with dark hair framing her face, a dagger in her hand and Katelyn's outraged expression lining her features. Leon felt like collapsing when he finally found her, tempted to run up and kiss her with joy, although the dagger stopped him.

When she saw it was him she tucked her weapon back into her belt but did not soften her expression. She moved towards him quickly, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning in, her body quite intimidating when she was angry. "Come to take me back to Ulfric have we Leon? Really, after everything he's done, I didn't take you to be one who would force me back."

Leon, a little shocked by this outburst, was wide-eyed when he spoke, quite nervous. "No, no of course not. I left the palace of my own accord and I came to find you because I wanted to."

She raised her eyebrows, "Really, one serving boy managed to find me before the entirety of Ulfric's personal guard. I believe it." Her sarcasm was so thick that even someone as daft as Leon could see it. He was annoyed, having fantasised about Katelyn welcoming him with open arms. He decided to them slump on her bed, displeased with the greeting he had received. He heard Katelyn give an angry sigh behind him, "No, please, make yourself right at home."

Leon turned around, twisting to sit cross-legged on the bed, "Look, I didn't come to bring you home and I only found you because of pot luck and my own intuition," naturally it was almost entirely down to pot luck. "I came because I thought you'd go and do something cool now, like an adventure and I wanted to join you."

She seemed to let out a snarl that almost sounded like an animalistic growl. She threw her hands up in the air, "Of course, because I need a stubborn man-child to follow me around when I'm running from Ulfric bloody Stormcloak. Oh yes Leon, you'll be of great use to me now." She suddenly seemed to lose all the anger and all the power and collapsed into a nearby chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "I'm sorry to be like this when it is clear you spent time and money to make sure I was well. I do appreciate it but I am worried. After what I saw I know I cannot return to Ulfric and I know I cannot help his rebellion, no matter how just it may seem." She stared at a spot on the floor, holding up a hand to her mouth, "I'm practically a fugitive now."

Leon knew what he had to do then. He jumped from the bed, regaining his energy and bounded down to kneel at Katelyn's feet. He took her hands in his and held them to his chin. He stared dead straight into her pale and wonderful eyes, "Well then Katelyn, let's be fugitives together."


	7. Ilia - The Nordic Breton

**A/N: So, another sort-of plot chapter, hope you like. I'm trying to decide whether I prefer Leon or Louis. Leon is winning so far but this chapter helped Louis a lot. **

Ilia watched the man beside her as he let another pint of ale slip down his throat. Men were disgusting, and Nords? Nords were the worst of all, with their bigoted ways and racist, cruel laws. Not many things put Ilia on edge and made her teeth scrape against each other, but Nords, Nords were the exception. He flicked another coin at the barmaid, who seemed to question whether he should be drinking quite so much. He slurred something angrily at her and she didn't question him again, running to fill up a tankard. Ilia decided she had just about had enough.

She jumped up from her seat, hitting the man's shoulder hard, "Look here," she said, not quite understanding why this was evoking such a reaction in her. "I think maybe you've had enough to drink now, so why don't you clear off before we have a problem." He didn't even turn around when she had finished. Her face twisted into a grimace as she grabbed his shoulder, twisting his body around forcibly. "Listen, I'm talking to you, you Nordic pig."

His face wasn't what she would have expected. It didn't possess the Nordic brutality that most did and instead made him seem more Breton, with darker eyes among pale hair. Although he was defiantly a Nord, Ilia could smell it on him and his eyes spoke of a rage which no other race possessed.

"Yes?" He asked her, "Is there something you want?" She was a little taken back by his appearance and his head of rippled blonde hair, turning into very slight curls around his face. He shoved her hand off of him, growling something about elves under his breath, "For the love of Talos, can a man not just sit and drink away his troubles without getting disturbed?" He kept strict eye contact with her and it very nearly made Ilia feel uncomfortable, which was quite an achievement.

"No," she said, quickly, realising how strange this must have looked, "I think you've had too much to drink and I think it's time you went home." He rolled his eyes, turning back to his ale. As he did however, she snatched it from his grasp like a little child, taking it away from him, causing a dark, opposite-of-bemused expression to grow on his face. She placed the drink at the other end of the bar to him, "Go home Nord, before I have to make you."

He stood, swaying very slightly as he did. He looked her dead in the eyes, "Fine, have it your way, vampire." He took his cloak from the back of his chair and staggered from the bar, bashing into a few worried faces as he did. Ilia simply stood there in shock.

As soon as the door had closed behind him she charged through the tavern, smashing back the door and running out after him. He wasn't there when she went outside and she couldn't see any way he could have gone. She stayed very still and very quiet, listening well. There was a dull beat of a heart behind her, and turning, she found the Nordic man, leaning against the tavern's wall, giving her a look that spoke both of boredom and the first hint of that bemusement.

He didn't make any signs of movement so she decided to act first, "Why did you call me vampire?" She demanded and he laughed when she did. She didn't like that, always being the one in control before and hardly used to being confused or confronted. She darkened her expression, "Why did you call me vampire?" She repeated, this time with more malice.

He shrugged light-heartedly. "Perhaps because you are one? If you are going to refer to me as Nord I see no reason to grant you the courtesy of a name." He didn't walk forward towards her and Ilia guessed it was because he was still somewhat intoxicated.

"How do you know that?" She asked, more calmly this time, establishing that he was making no immediate move to attack her. She hadn't expected this from the Wind District, where taverns were places for rich men to get drunk rather than for criminals or intellects to play games.

He smirked, "Isn't it obvious?" He removed one of his arms which had previously been crossed over his chest, gesturing limply to her face, "Your eyes, for a start, are quite clearly not Elven and then there was you recognising my true race. There is nothing about my face to suggest I have Nordic heritage, so one would either have to know me, or know my blood. Although you made one mistake, my father may have been a Nord but my mother was a Breton. That's the final piece of the puzzle you see. Any other creature that could read my blood, aside from a vampire, would have powers which would know everything – I am speaking of Daedra of course. A vampire, on the other hand, is very much open to mortal error."

He kicked away from the wall, walking forward with a steady and purposeful step. "You're not drunk," Ilia commented and he nodded.

"That is true. I was pretending to see if I could drive you wild, which apparently I did." He chuckled to himself again and he was only a foot or so away from her. Carefully, almost gingerly, he held out his hand towards her, "My name is Louis and I have always wanted to meet a vampire. I must admit, you are fascinating creatures."

Ilia hesitated before taking his hand in hers, "I am Ilia and you, Louis, are not as smart as you think you are."

He grinned, "And you are not as careful as I would imagine you to be. Honestly, anyone with half a mind could have told your race in there, you're simply lucky that you came to Whiterun, the city of money and stupidity." He looked at her, refusing to let go of her hand as he examined her face, "I must say, you haven't eaten in a long while."

"Are you volunteering?" She asked, a smile spreading across her lips as she said it. He realised her hand and moved away slightly, although the look of arrogant confidence on his face was not lost.

"What are you doing in the city anyway?" He asked as she began to walk away, trailing behind her like some sort of dog, "I didn't think Whiterun was a place where vampires often made themselves known."

Ilia glanced in his direction and decided his curiosity was something she could humour for a while. "There should be a woman who recently arrived with a group of Stormcloaks in this city. I need to find her, for purposes you know little about." She turned down a road that led to the Cloud District, knowing that to be the place where high ranking Stormcloaks would be found. There were only around a hundred houses in that district, but those houses held more power and wealth than the rest of the city.

"Do you mean Katelyn?" He asked behind her, an obvious glint in his voice showing he knew something Ilia did not.

"Katelyn?" She asked, "Is she one of the women who arrived with the Stormcloaks?" Ilia then decided, when she saw Louis's face, that he would be a good companion to have on her travels, if he cared for it. She only took to him because he seemed to find as much enjoyment out of knowing hidden things as she did.

"She is the _only_ woman to arrive with the Stormcloaks. A redguard, set to be Ulfric's bride before she disappeared two days ago." Ilia stopped and turned to him, his blonde curls bouncing around his face as he paused with her.

"Ulfric's betrothed?" She asked before smiling to herself, realising that if this woman was who she was seeking: the fates had played a very cruel trick on her.

Louis nodded, "Yes, in fact I met her. She found out that Ulfric was refusing medical care to the Imperial supporters and threw a tantrum, disappearing into the night. Brilliant little stunt it was, because as soon as it happened, Ulfric banned any volunteers or visitors from the Imperial medical bay. So I, who was a healing and tending to dying men, can no longer do my work, thanks to Katelyn." He seemed very bitter about the whole thing but Ilia hardly noticed it, more surprised that a man of such build could be a healer.

She looked at the ground, considering her options before turning to sharply look him in the eye again, "Do you have any notion as to where this woman might be?" She asked, knowing what she had to do, even if it would irritate her.

Louis nodded his head, "I have a few ideas."

Those few ideas, in fact, meant trailing through the Plains District, inquiring, from practically door to door, whether anyone had seen a redguard woman named Katelyn. By the third hour of doing this, Ilia had become a little bored.

They encountered a group of men and woman who looked as if they were less-than-honourable citizens. Louis appeared to want to walk straight past them but Ilia stopped him, gesturing for him to shut up while she did what needed to be done. They approached them and she stood up tall, letting the full swing of her inhuman eyes out of them.

"I'm looking for a Redguard woman." She told them simply, watching as Louis's face grew distressed, wondering what she could be up to.

One of the group, a woman, stepped forward, clearly acting as leader, "That's a pretty little story but I don't see why it means you should block our way." She had a slight twinge to her accent, hinting she was from Riften, although she was no member of Ilia's thieves.

Ilia was not fazed by her aggressive manner, "I was wondering if you have seen her because it is vitally important that I find her." Again she produced another short statement, almost enjoying the fury it riled up in the group.

"Maybe we have, maybe we haven't," she said and Ilia could have gagged at how awkward this woman was making this. If she didn't use such common lines and acted as if, well, as if she were unbeatable then perhaps Ilia would have shown her some respect. "What will we get out of it if we do tell you?" She demanded and Ilia sighed, fed up.

She turned to Louis, grabbed his forehead and closed her eyes. Her memories instantly became awash with his and although she was aware of the real world, it was far behind her. She became immersed in the world of dreams and thoughts, searching through his, which became frantic as fear held him. She ignored it, finding the one thing she needed. Luckily for her it was at the front of his mind. She plucked the image of Katelyn from it and took it into her own, noting how much younger the woman was than what she had been expecting.

She released Louis and he fell to the floor, panting. Gathering magic inside of her she used it to cast a picture of Katelyn next to her. The woman appeared as a ghostly figure before the savage groups eyes, the image moving slightly but the features Ilia needed were clear and steady.

She gestured to the solid mirage of Katelyn beside her, "This is the woman we are looking for," she told the group, all of which appeared too scared to consider fleeing. "Have you seen her?"

The woman nodded, although a little flustered when she did. "The whore house a couple of streets from here, I saw her entering it, or at least I think it was her, I couldn't tell." Ilia felt that was a stroke of luck, so closed her fingers around the image's head and let it dissolve into mist. The tentacles of smoke crept through the air until they faded into nothingness.

"Thank you for your consideration. I pray that your lives will be payment enough for this enormous help." It felt good to feel so powerful, meaning Ilia picked up Louis and left with a smile on her face.

She knew the whore house they meant and so made her way there immediately. Louis followed behind, and as expected was brimming with questions, "By the Nine Divines, what was that?" He asked, almost yelling his words. Ilia loved this part of telling people about her magic, loved how shocked they become.

"A simple spell of illusion, nothing more." She explained and his face enough told her that she needed to continue. She giggled slightly as she did, "I searched your mind, found the image of Katelyn and then projected it for those people to see."

Louis frowned, finding himself after that but still looking confused, "Searching someone's mind? I had no idea people could do that, so how does that link to illusion magic at all?"

She looked at him as if he was such an idiot but that didn't stir him at all. She smiled, "My dear Louis, don't you understand? The mind is the greatest illusion of them all." They drew up to the front of the cat house, which looked rather too lively for a noble woman to be staying in. "Now, shall we go inside?"


End file.
